


thoughts results of static cling

by P2PWP



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Massages, Mostly Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/P2PWP/pseuds/P2PWP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He may literally have magic fingers, but Rose will admit (sometimes) (on occasion) (after a few swigs of drink) she appreciates what he can do behind closed doors much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thoughts results of static cling

Lately he’s been starting to get a gnawing in his gut, a Just A Feeling that tonight’s a night he’ll need to bring out the oils and light the snootiest, stuffiest candles he can. Usually she’ll come up the walkway just as he loads the quilt into the dryer, so will have to literally fly halfway across the house to land in a casual pose of suaveness, framed by firelight, just as she walks in.

(“Hello,” he purrs, all sultriness.

“Is your leg smoking?” She asks. Flying over the candles was not the best idea.)

After patting the flame off the hem of his pants, Rose will take convincing, and pleading, and the saddest puppy eyes he can muster to sit with him on the couch (along with the assurance that yes, Dave and Jade are at a gig and will not be disturbing them this evening). Usually the nail in the coffin will be the promise of a warm blanket to curl under against the ever-approaching winter outside.

(“John, this isn’t necessary, you know that.”

“Um, excuse  _you_  Rose, your happiness is totally necessary! Now get ready, I’ll be back in a flash.”)

When he returns with the quilt, she will have unbuttoned and shed her top. She will be perched on the couch and be completely turned away from him. He’ll sit behind her and pretend to not hear her squeak when he entraps them both in a warm, fluffy embrace. Laughing, he will reach for the oils, and the sight of her bare back and shoulders (close to him, in his lap) will totally  _not_ make him blush (his ears will go red, just a little).

A small frown will work its way to his lips as he ticks his fingers down her sides and he finds himself able to count each and every rib. He will wish she wouldn't forget to eat sometimes, but  he won’t bring it up (later, a better time). He just finds the most tense areas and gets to work.

The first touch of his fingers always makes her jump (nine times out of ten she pretends to have sneezed). Most times he doesn't bug her about it, mostly because he never gets used to the fact that underneath her defenses, under her sharp tongue and barbed words that leave his heart pierced (in the best kinds of ways), Rose Lalonde, Seer of Light, is mere flesh and bone.

Barely. As noted, _jeez_ she's skinny.

He will trace his hands up and down, thumbs kneading that one particular spot between her shoulders as if trying to pull all the painful parts out of her. Contrary to popular belief, John isn't stupid. As much as he went through during the Game, Rose had it much, much worse. The memories of the doomed timeline, the air of alien energy pulsing around her, the knowledge she would have to walk straight into her own death...

He worries about Dave similarly, and he does what he can for him. All of them do what they can for each other. They're all each other's best friend, in the same way and in different ways. John will be there to remind Dave he isn't really that cool, and to remind him he's cool in all the ways he never realizes. He will be there to tease Jade for her quirkiness, and to be an anchor for her the same way he was during the long, long years onboard the ship.

And Rose...well, for Rose, he's here to do this.

("So, I have to admit, I'm actually a little impressed. This has got to hold a record for the longest set-up to a prank."

"haha, rose, you're doing The Rose Thing again."

"The Rose Thing?"

"that thing where you want to ask something but you do it in this roundabout twisty-turny way that's so sneaky i don't know what you're talking about! just like right now. what are you talking about, 'longest set-up for a prank?"

"Well, we've been holding these sessions for...a little over a month now, I believe."

"ssss....oooo?"

"'Ssss....oooo,' what is the punchline? What exactly do you get out of this?")

The days she asks things like that, it makes him pause a little. Rose changed a lot in the three years they were separated, got a little more.... exuberant, maybe, was the right word. ('you learned how to make _what_???") But there's something in her that seems to never exactly vanish. And though it has a slightly less black brand of humor on this side of adolescence, it still makes Rose seem to really, genuinely believe she doesn't deserve people's attention and affections. That people need some sort of reward to justify hanging around her.

And sometimes...

Well, it makes him sad in a way he can't really put into words.

But in the end it's alright--he's not the "words" person, after all. He will return to work with a sort of shrug, gentling drumming his hands on her back, in a sort of ultra-fast ultra-compressed session of shoosh-papping. It makes her teeth click in a funny, weirdly cute kind of way, and it will always distract her.

("well, rose, maybe i just like the satisfaction of easing the pain my dear, good friend gets from sitting in weird ways when writing!"

"Ah. So it's your daily dose of helping the unfortunate."

"it's my daily dose of making sure you're not bent over and crooked like an old lady when you turn thirty! so. there.")

He will pat her a little too hard after exchanges like that. He doesn't mean to, but sometimes this mutual teasing of theirs, these weird conversations where they're not-saying a billion things under the jokes and everything, all the things she not-implies that he has to mull over later to make sure he didn't-hear correctly, all the double meanings and double entendres ...it can all make him frustrated. Why can't they just say what they want to say, really?

("Well-.")

But he always gets her when she tries to get in the last word--and she always does.

("oh, and i DO sooooorta of really love you and want to make sure you know that and stuff. but. you know, it's mainly the back thing.")

Try, that is.

Silence will settle, as always. She will try to pass her soft hums of pleasure as grunts or annoyed sighs. She will stubbornly do her best to not relax. But their bullheaded quiet, him trying to get her to admit to happiness, her trying to frustrate him, it will all eventually dissolve into an armistice of content peace.

And by the end of the hour she will be lulled to a state of pleased drowsiness under the weight of warmth, soft fingers, and the occasional kiss pressed to her back. And he will always feel a weird warm sort of fluffiness, in his face and his chest at the end, and the feeling of her allowing herself to go limp in his arms will make him smile in the stupidest way. And he will, as always, wrap his arms around her waist, bring his hand to her heart, and—

(“honk!”

“…you did not just--”

“honk.”

“Oh my _god_.”)

He will accept the pillow doof to the face like a king’s crown.

**Author's Note:**

> a response to a simple headcanon http://shesthekingofnewyork.tumblr.com/post/33212141481/i-bet-john-always-gives-rose-massages-when-shes


End file.
